


We Forgot to Slow Down

by reve_silencieux



Series: Once Upon Another Time [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reve_silencieux/pseuds/reve_silencieux
Summary: Several months into Neal's cycle, it's summer and hot, and unfortunately, it's going to get a little rougher for Neal after he receives some news...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this way too long ago, and it actually started out as two separate (short!) fic ideas, then I combined them when I realized they went together, and it turned epic. I had hoped to post this while it was still summer, but oh well... It's still hot at least. Title is from Jetta's _Take It Easy_.

“I hate summer.”

The declaration was made with little fanfare, and Neal looked up from his perch on the sofa to see Sara’s slender high-heeled foot kick the front door shut. To say she didn’t look happy was an understatement. Her ice blue blouse was a mottled swirl of dark blue sweat stains under her arms and across her chest.

“Join the club,” he joked and placed his book down on the floor.

Her face crumpled and she closed her eyes, bringing a hand to her head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain, really, it’s just way too hot for me.”

Neal grinned and pushed himself up from the couch. “Hey, don’t sweat it.” She opened her eyes and glared at him. He chuckled and they both moved to meet in the middle of the living room. “Just because I’m carrying a good twenty extra pounds doesn’t mean you can’t complain that you’re miserable, too. I think the entire east coast feels the same way.”

After a pleasant, but unexpectedly wet and cool May, June had been warm and mostly dry — nothing to complain horribly about, but the beginning of July had bloomed hot and humid. They were now into their second week of soaring temperatures, well into the 90’s, and everyone was cranky. At twenty-eight weeks pregnant, he was more than ready for summer to be over. And as much as he liked being home during the holidays, he hated having summer cycles.

“I’m just so _hot_ ,” she griped and plucked her blouse from her skin with a repulsed look. It clung to her every curve.

He grinned. “Why yes, _yes_ you are,” he agreed and pulled her into his arms. She rolled her eyes, resting her arms around his neck.

“I’m sweaty and disgusting, Neal. I just spent an hour on the train with a hundred other sweaty and disgusting people. Right now, all I want to do is get out of these clothes—” He waggled his eyebrows, and she lightly smacked the back of his head. “—don’t even go there!” She ignored his mock-pout and continued, “I want a shower, and then I want to plop myself directly under the A/C.”

Neal looked up at the ceiling, then moved them over a couple feet beneath a vent. When the cool air hit them, she sighed happily.

“I’m officially jealous — your A/C actually works. If it weren’t for the commute, you’d probably have a roommate. You don’t have to pay for that, do you?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Nope, all utilities are paid for, thankfully. I think they’d have a riot otherwise, or very few volunteers.”

“No kidding,” she replied with a grimace. “I just hope the power doesn’t go out. They’re having problems in the city.”

“We’re exempt from brownouts, but we have backup power generators just in case. Trust me, it’s not pretty when the A/C goes out. They have maintenance staff on hand and they’re kept pretty busy from what I hear.”

“Good to know. Now excuse me while I go wash off this layer of grime. I promise I’ll be in better spirits once I feel human again.” She gave him a quick kiss, then walked off to the bedroom.

Since her return from her trip, and their subsequent declarations of love, Neal had felt more at ease, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. While he had come to accept his life over the past few years, most days went by in a blur, where the days and weeks stretched out and no end ever seemed in sight. Now he had her visits to look forward to, and the days flew by quicker than they ever had before.

It was both good and bad, seeing as his pregnancy had progressed and his stomach grew at the same rapid speed. He was now about to start his third trimester and the heat combined with his unwieldy frame were starting to drain on him. But for Sara he was trying to keep a smile on his face. She was still making the effort to visit him, so she deserved a pleasant weekend, if not an attentive boyfriend that didn’t make her feel like she had wasted her time.

Granted, things _had_ become a bit more uncomfortable as the weeks went by. Kate had left him after five months, so they had ventured into new territory as his belly became more pronounced and they had to get creative. Sara surprised him in that respect, willing to try just about anything. There were plenty of laughs and bumbling attempts, much to his chagrin, but she didn’t seem to mind.

He really didn’t deserve her.

Now as she sat at the table, chatting away about her latest case and he finished tossing the (cold) pasta salad, he was struck with an idea. Some days he wished he could treat her to more — be it a night out to see a play, or dinner at a restaurant they hadn’t gone to several times already. She never complained, and certainly they would make up for it during his break, but he tried his best to make their weekends special whenever he could.

And tonight he had the perfect idea.

*~*~*~*

“I’m going to have to take another shower after this — whatever _this_ is. How long until we get there?”

Neal grinned, but refused to give in to her not-so-subtle interrogation. He swung their joined hands playfully in the air and she sighed loudly. Earlier, Sara had been vocal with her less-than-enthusiastic desire to venture outside and leave the comfort of the air conditioning. Especially when he didn’t tell her where they were going or what they would be doing. 

There were many things that Sara Ellis would do for the sake of her job, but outside of that, she was a creature of comfort. She had only grudgingly acquiesced when he told her that she didn’t have to dress up, and could stay in her comfortable clothes — as long as she didn’t mind being seen in them if they passed anyone.

“And as much as I like your romantic side, I’m not in the mood for star gazing,” she continued, eyeing the bag he held in his other hand, which he, of course, had not allowed her to look inside.

He chuckled. It wasn’t a bad idea, though even he wasn’t willing to stay outside long, either. Even if it weren’t for the heat, the bugs would be out. “No star gazing. Now, please, just trust me, I know you’ll like it.”

Her eyes narrowed and she still looked slightly suspicious, but she didn’t protest anymore, thankfully.

Tugging on her hand, he led them towards a jogging trail that looped around the campus. It was a quiet night, and they had only passed a few people, but the trail was completely empty. They walked for a few minutes in silence, and Neal glanced up at the night sky. The new moon was hidden behind the clouds, leaving them blanketed in the darkness, with only a scattering of stars dimly lighting their way.

It was peaceful, and altogether appropriate and helpful for his plan.

Slowing down a couple minutes later, he glanced over his shoulder. They were alone. He pulled away from Sara, and started towards the back door of a building just off the path.

“Neal?” Sara asked hesitantly, her voice just above a whisper.

He waved her on, and kept walking until he reached the building. Dropping his bag, he slid his lock picks out of his back pocket and got working on the door.

“ _Neal!_ ” Sara hissed, and glanced around wildly then back at him. “What are you doing?”

Glancing up, he grinned. “Trust me.”

“We couldn’t just go through the front door?”

He shook his head. “Nope. They lock up at six.”

Sara sighed. She turned her back, and went to keep watch for anyone coming their way. Neal knew they were safe, but he appreciated her mindset. He liked knowing she would have his back, even if she probably wasn’t too happy with him right now. She would change her mind in a moment though.

The lock clicked open and he straightened, putting his lock picks away. “Done.” He opened the door and held out his arm when Sara turned back around. “After you.”

“Just please tell me we don’t have to skirt around cameras like criminals. I am not wearing the right shoes for that.”

Picking up his bag, Neal eyed her flip-flops and chuckled, then shook his head, following her inside. “No cameras. The only cameras on campus are at the hospital, building entrances and the front gate. Just gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling, doesn’t it?”

He started walking down the back hallway, Sara trailing behind slowly, and seconds later he heard her gasp, their destination clear when the smell of chlorine wafted through the air. They turned one final corner and found themselves at the entrance to the large natatorium. There were two pools — one a large lap pool, and the other a shallow pool meant for relaxing. Both pools had been crowded the past two weeks. Now it was all theirs for the evening.

“Worth leaving the apartment and A/C?” he asked with a smirk.

She smacked his shoulder. “Yes, but did we really have to break in? I would still have appreciated it tomorrow during the daytime.”

Neal rubbed his arm playfully. “Tomorrow you would have to fight off a couple hundred cranky breeders for a chair, much less a spot in the pool. Let me tell you, it’s scary.”

“And you aren’t?”

He glared at her mockingly. “Funny.”

Sara laughed softly then nodded towards his bag. “I don’t suppose you have a swimsuit in there, do you?”

“Who says you need one?”

She raised an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth curled upwards. “Oh, really?”

“Mm-hmm…” Neal wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands dipping under her shirt and gently teasing her. “That’s the beauty of this — we have the place all to ourselves.”

She looked around cautiously, spotting the narrow windows near the ceiling. No one would see them.

“Well, in that case…” She trailed off and stepped back, kicking off her flip-flops and reached for the bottom of her t-shirt. Pulling it over her head, she dropped it on the floor. She then shimmied out of her shorts, and stood there in her underwear, her pale skin glowing under the night sky. With a saucy smile, she slowly peeled off her bra, and casually tossed it onto the growing piles of clothes.

Neal stared, slack-jawed, and felt a rush of blood go to his groin. Seconds later, she’d peeled off the last of her clothing, and was giving him a knowing grin as he drank in the sight of her. She reached up, pulled her hair out of the clip and shook her head, her hair spilling down around her shoulders. Her breasts jiggled, the nipples rosy and perky as they were exposed. He swallowed, feeling his body respond to the sight of her, but when he moved towards she smirked and turned, walking away from him with a sway in her hips.

Groaning, he watched as she sauntered over to the pool’s edge and paused, tossing a saucy smile over her shoulder at him. Slowly, one hand on the railing, she descended into the water, one step at a time, then dove in with a smooth arc of her back. Ten feet out into the pool, she resurfaced and ran her hands over her face, and pushed back her hair behind her ears. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Coming?”

Neal quickly reached for his own shirt, the blood pounding in his ears. He was less than graceful, as he stumbled kicking off his shoes, and pulled down his shorts and briefs. He heard Sara giggle lightly and tried not to think about what a sight he made right then. The fact that Sara hadn’t run off screaming this far into his pregnancy still amazed him.

He stopped and struck a pose, hand behind his head and jutting out his hip. “Am I rocking it, or what?”

Sara’s head fell back as she burst out laughing.

Grinning, he started walking to the pool, decidedly less sexy and without any swagger whatsoever, and carefully entered, sinking gratefully into the water. Immediately, he felt the weight of his belly and strain on his back disappear. He pushed through the water, making his way over to her. As he got closer, she started to push herself backward, kicking lightly, and grinned at him.

“Hey!” he cried out and her laughter filled the air.

Diving under the water, he swam to where she had stopped in the middle of the pool. He popped back up and drew in a deep breath. The water was now deeper where they were, and it came up to his neck. Sara, however, was slowly kicking, treading water to keep her head just above the water. She smiled broadly as she moved her arms around.

“So, good surprise?” he asked, admittedly feeling proud of himself.

“Very.” She grinned and shrugged lightly, bobbing gently in the water. “But I have to admit, this is my first time skinny dipping.”

His eyes widened. “Really?” He shook his head and smirked. "Wow, that’s a shame. I’ll definitely have to teach you on the do’s and don’ts.”

“Oh, such as?”

“One — make sure you’re alone,” he said, and did a quick check around the building, then glanced back at Sara with a wink. “Check.” He reached out and pulled her close. She stopped kicking and stood on her tiptoes, bringing her arms to rest around his neck. “Two — absolutely no clothes allowed.” His eyes fell to her chest and he grinned. “Definitely check.” 

Sara laughed softly.

“And three—” he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, “make out with the prettiest girl there.” She stilled and he leaned down, touching his lips to hers softly and kissed her with a slow, languid pace. Her lips parted and he gently pushed his tongue against hers. They danced around each other for several seconds before breaking apart to take a breath, and he dipped his head down again, hungrily kissing her.

He brought his other hand up, cupping her cheeks, and finally broke for air. Breathing heavily, he stared into her eyes and smiled, running his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek tenderly.

“I think I can handle that,” she murmured.

“Can you now? That’s very good to hear.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “I think you have a very bright future ahead of you, Sara Ellis, especially with that attitude,” he added, the corner of his mouth curling up.

Sara smiled, and lightly played with the hair on the back of his neck. “Why, thank you. I’m pretty happy with how it’s going right now.”

He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “Me too.” He paused, letting the moment sink in, then took a deep breath and looked up into her eyes. “Thank you.”

She frowned. “For what?”

Shaking his head, he simply smiled. “Everything. For… for just being you. For sticking around. Most people wouldn’t.”

“Well, I’m not most people.”

“No, you’re most definitely not.” He chuckled, tucking a tendril of her hair behind her ear. “Still, I know it’s not easy for you. And I can’t exactly give you a life out on the town, and I’m… well,” he glanced down at his belly and back up at her, and shrugged, “this.”

“You think I care about that?” She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Neal, when I look at you, I see YOU. And you are more than this,” she said, resting a hand on his belly.

Neal swallowed, and felt his heart lurch. “I’m not so sure you’ll say that in a couple of months,” he joked, his voice rough. She rolled her eyes. “Hey, you think I was kidding earlier? We’re scary in the last trimester, and even I’m tired of seeing pregnant bellies and floppy man boobs.”

She snickered. “Well, I can sympathize. I’ve been to the gym and seen some of those guys — albeit with beer bellies. It’s not a pretty look when they’re trying to pump weights with sweat pouring down their faces.” She put a hand on his chest and looked him in the eye. “But trust me, I can handle it. I would have already left if any of it bothered me.” Leaning in, she gave him a kiss. “Besides, you think I’d date just any pregnant guy?” She scoffed and shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“Oh, really?”

She nodded, smiling wide. “I’ll let you in on a secret — you’re the only guy I’d let someone come between us.”

He laughed. “Cute.” She shrugged, and gave him an impish grin. “Well, in that case…” He moved to pick her up, giving her butt a quick squeeze. She laughed, holding onto him tightly around his neck, and wrapped her legs around his waist. It was a tight, if slightly awkward position, but she didn’t appear to mind.

Instead she leaned in and kissed him soundly on the lips.

He stumbled back a few steps, and she held onto him as the water and gravity jostled them, but before he could gain his footing, he fell back, taking Sara with him. Her arms flailed out, sending a wave of water over their heads.

She broke the surface a moment later, kicking out and pushed her hair out of her face. Smiling, she shook her head and laughed. “See? Why would I give up this?”

*~*~*~*

A knock sounded on the front door, causing Neal to look up from his painting, and he smiled. The iambic pentameter was a dead giveaway as to who was visiting him, and he could always count on Mozzie to entertain him in some way. Putting down his brush, he wiped his hands on a rag and walked to the front door.

“Hey Moz,” he greeted his friend, pushing the door open wide.

“Neal,” Mozzie replied curtly, walking past him.

Shaking his head, Neal let the door close and followed Mozzie into the small living room. “What’s up?”

Mozzie looked up and paused, cocking his head to the side. “I think perhaps you should sit down.”

Neal raised an eyebrow. “Okay… you have me curious, and a bit worried.” Most of the time it was hard to take the older con man seriously, but his friend always had the best intentions. He just hoped Mozzie hadn’t gotten in over his head in whatever he was up to at the moment. Neal couldn’t exactly help out much.

Once Neal was seated on the couch, Mozzie paced for a bit, and Neal had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something that might cause a rise. Sometimes it was best to wait Mozzie out.

After a few moments, Mozzie finally seemed to get a handle on what he wanted to discuss and stopped in front of Neal. He wrung his hands together and took a deep breath. “Sara and I were scheduled to rendezvous yesterday in Central Park, and she didn’t show.”

“Rendezvous?” Neal blinked. Mozzie had grown to tolerate his girlfriend, but he’d never expected them to become fast friends. “Do I want to know why you’re meeting my girlfriend?” _Behind my back_ , he refrained from adding. Not that he felt any fear of losing Sara to his best friend.

“She called for some help, which is neither here nor there,” Mozzie replied, waving his hands in the air.

 _Right, that made it so much better_ , Neal thought. “Okay… did you call her? I’m sure something just came up.”

Mozzie gave him a look and huffed. “When she did not return any of my messages, I called her office.” 

Unfortunately, Neal knew that Mozzie’s ‘messages’ weren’t your normal voicemails, and felt a pang of sympathy for Sara. She must have really needed Mozzie’s help to reach out to him, and tolerate all his eccentricities.

“And, uh, well, there’s no easy way to tell you, but they informed me that she died Tuesday night.”

Neal’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “What? No, you can’t mean…” 

His stomach dropped as he took in Mozzie’s somber expression. “No, no, no… she can’t be…” He felt his heart skip a beat, and he stood up, heart racing, running his hands through his hair.

_There was no way she was gone. She was here just days ago, complaining of the heat, but oh, so alive._

“Moz, no, please don’t joke with me,” he turned to his friend, pleading with him. He pictured Sara smiling and laughing in his head, and couldn’t imagine anything else.

“I’m sorry, mon frère,” Mozzie replied sadly, and his quiet demeanor convinced Neal more than any words his friend might say. “I went to her place and it was cordoned off with police tape. I talked to neighbors, and they told me they heard a gunshot Tuesday night. Sally hacked the NYPD and got the police report. Someone entered her place, shot her twice with a silencer. But it appears Sara had her wits about her — she got a shot off. They found blood.”

Neal closed his eyes and felt his heart lodge in his throat. Oh God… _Sara_. The picture changed in his head and all he could see was blood. Staining her pale skin… pouring out of her. The beauty of her red hair eclipsed by the blood pool she laid in with her last breath.

He stumbled out of the room and dropped to the floor in his bathroom. His chest heaved and he threw up in the toilet. When he finally raised his head, a glass of water was pushed in front of his face and he took it without thinking, completely numb.

“I’m sorry, Neal.”

He stared at the wall, his eyes unfocused, and said nothing. Breathing heavily, he sat there dazed, and wondered if this was a nightmare.

“If you’re done, perhaps we should move this out of the bathroom. I think you’ve spent enough time here, as it is,” Mozzie suggested softly.

Neal shook his head, trying to clear the fog in his head. After a quick glance down, he grimaced, suddenly aware that, yes, he was back in his least favorite spot. He looked up, acknowledging his friend finally, who was uncharacteristically quiet and serious and nodded. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, his voice rough.

Handing the glass back to Mozzie, he gratefully took hold of Moz’s proffered hand and pushed himself up from the floor with a grunt. Without a word, they walked back to the kitchen, and Neal sank down in a chair. Holding his head in his hands, he closed his eyes and tried to push the image of a dying and scared Sara out of his head.

It didn’t feel real. He could still hear her voice, feel her touch…

He looked up at Mozzie, feeling lost and adrift. “How? I don’t get it…” he trailed off and took a deep breath, forcing back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

“We’ll figure it out. Here, drink.” Mozzie put a glass of wine in front of him.

Neal raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s not going to kill you to have one glass. And trust me, my friend, you need it right now.” He sat down and took a long drink from his own glass.

With a sigh, Neal picked it up and took a small sip, unable to argue that fact, and hard-pressed to deny his desire to drown himself in a lot more than a glass of wine.

“No one’s heard anything, and it’s a little hard to inquire since our people aren’t that fond of her type, but I’ve put out feelers. If this guy was shot, he probably didn’t go to a hospital. He’ll need drugs or a doctor. Hopefully he’s just holed up somewhere for now, which is good for us; this way, we know he won’t be leaving town anytime soon.”

Neal gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Mozzie leaned forward and he cocked his head slightly. “Look, I liked Sara, I did. She didn’t deserve to die like this. We’ll find whoever was responsible, Neal, I promise you. What can you tell me about what she was working on lately? I can’t see this as random.”

“True, but why her?” Neal shook his head. “We both know it’s not worth going after the insurance investigator.”

“Maybe not for the average thief,” Mozzie replied with a shrug, “but there had to be something worth killing her over. She probably just didn’t recognize it.”

With a pang in his heart, Neal thought back to the weekend, when he had teased Sara for always bringing cases with her. “She had several, but she’s been working hard on a case of stolen samurai bonds.”

“Samurai bonds?” Mozzie’s eyes lit up. “You know, I’ve always wanted to go after them. If you were still in the business, I’d suggest this would be a perfect time to forge some. No one would be the wiser.”

Neal glared at him, and Mozzie visibly shrank back. “Right, not the time. So did she have anyone in her sights yet?”

Rubbing his eyes, he sighed. “Yeah, some real estate guy. Umm… Edgar Halbridge, I think was his name.”

“Good, I’ll look into him. I’ll get Sally to help, too.” Mozzie took another long drink of his wine, nearly draining it, then set the glass down and fingered the stem absently, looking uncomfortable in the accompanying silence.

Neal closed his eyes wearily. “Moz, no offense, but go home. I need some time to myself.” 

“Are you sure? I can stay, it’s no problem.”

He opened his eyes and gave him a look. “Yes. Besides, I need you to find this guy, and you can’t do that here.”

Mozzie stood up and paused next to him. Patting Neal on his shoulder awkwardly, Moz said softly, “I’m really sorry, Neal.”

Neal was silent. Moz sighed and left the apartment quietly. When the door shut with a soft click, Neal felt himself finally break. Lashing out, he sent the wine glass flying with a sweep of his hand. It crashed to the floor, but he ignored it. His shoulders shook violently and he felt his lungs close up on him as he gasped for breath. Hanging his head in his hands, he sobbed, the tears falling down his cheeks unrestrained as the truth sunk in. 

Sara was gone.

He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as the dark red liquid spilled over the floor, and all he could think of was Sara lying on the ground. The life pouring out of her. Alone.

And now so was he.


	2. Chapter 2

Neal woke up the next morning and stared at the empty space next to him. He felt his chest tighten, and closed his eyes, as reality washed over him. He wished it had been a dream — a nightmare that he could wake up from, but it wasn’t.

Sara was dead.

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to leave this bed and face the day. He wasn’t ready. Rolling away from the window and the morning sun, he tried to cling to the last vestiges of sleep where he could forget, but the baby pressed on his bladder and he sighed.

Stumbling into the kitchen a few minutes later, he found Mozzie at the table, reading through a stack of papers.

His friend looked up. “Finally. I was afraid you might have taken my advice a little too much to heart last night,” he said, nodding at the empty wine bottle on the counter.

Neal rubbed his bleary eyes and sank into a chair opposite of his friend. “Moz, I appreciate your concern but I’m really not in the mood.” He didn’t acknowledge the wine bottle which he’d poured down the sink the night before, afraid he would cave in to temptation.

“I get that it hurts, but we have to move quickly.” Mozzie waved a hand over all the stacks. “This is everything Sally dug up on Halbridge.”

It was a distraction at least, Neal acknowledged to himself, and leaned forward. “Find anything?”

“I haven’t gone through everything. She got his email, financials, land holdings — you name it. There’s a lot to go through.” He paused, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “But she _did_ track down an email account with one of his non de plumes. That’s where we hit pay dirt.”

He picked up a piece of paper from one stack and pushed it over. “He contacted a Mr. Black about flying to the US, and arranged the hit.”

Neal’s eyes widened and he picked up the paper, scanning it quickly. “He doesn’t mention Sara by name. No address either.”

“No, but I think it’s fairly safe to assume given the circumstances, that he’s talking about Sara.”

He glanced back up at Mozzie, earnestly. “We have to find him, Moz. And figure out why Halbridge wanted her dead. We have to connect them or else the police won’t arrest him.”

Mozzie stood up and picked up his bag. “I know, and that’s why I’m going to bid you adieu. You can go through the rest of this, while I meet up with my contacts.”

Neal nodded numbly, and reached for a stack of papers. “Thanks, Moz. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome. Now don’t forget to eat!”

*~*~*~*

Mozzie cursed under his breath and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed with one hand as he kept an eye on the scene before him, pushing down the urge to run and take a shower. His skin crawled just at the sight of all the cops milling about. What he’d do for his friend...

“Did you find him?” Neal asked without any greeting.

“He’s being loaded into an ambulance as we speak, mon frère,” he replied, then smirked. “The police received an anonymous tip that got them here in record time.” 

“Are we sure it’s him?”

Mozzie scoffed. “Your lack of faith in me hurts.”

“Moz…” Neal ground out.

“My source confirmed the black leather jacket and the book.” Moz clicked his tongue. “Besides, they have his DNA, he’s done for.”

He heard Neal sigh in relief.

“Thanks, Moz.”

“No need to thank me, I wanted him too. But there’s more.” He pulled up his binoculars and shifted over to the small group on the sidewalk. “You won’t believe who’s here at the scene.” 

“Who?”

“Your favorite Suit,” he replied, frowning, as he watched the agent gesticulate wildly in the air while he talked with two other suits. The man was talking too fast to catch anything.

“Agent Burke?”

“Do you have another I’m not aware of? Yes, Burke. Which begs the question, how did the Suits find out?” He nearly growled when Burke turned his back on him.

“Sara mentioned that she might take the case to the FBI. She’s worked with him before.”

Mozzie sputtered. “You could have told me that!”

“I’m sorry if I had other things on my mind at the time, Moz,” Neal said, the tone of his voice hard and unforgiving.

“Fine,” he relented, “but this isn’t good. We can’t let him get anywhere near you.” Burke turned around and looked out towards the street. Mozzie quickly ducked back behind his shrub.

“I doubt we have anything to worry about. Sara is—” Neal stopped and Mozzie winced, “was good about keeping things to herself. She wasn’t exactly advertising our relationship. Besides, they’ll be looking at her cases, and hopefully Halbridge if they’re smart.”

Mozzie snorted. “Ha! As if.”

Neal audibly sighed over the phone. “The point is — I doubt I’m even on their radar right now, Moz.”

Cautiously, Mozzie slowly peeked his head out and finding it all clear, stood back up. He raised his binoculars and focused on the trio of agents again. “Well, if they’re onto Halbridge, that might make it easier for us. We can use that to our advantage. Speaking of, have you found anything?”

“No, not yet. Sally was quite thorough.”

“That she is. Unfortunately, now with the Suits involved, we’re going to be flying blind. Grabbing the police report is one thing, but she can’t grab the FBI’s files.”

The female agent turned right then and Mozzie concentrated on her. “Wait a minute…”

“What? Moz, what’s going on?”

“Lady Suit is talking about reaching out to Interpol about Mr. Black.” He paused as Burke said something, and then the third agent responded. “Oh! They have the emails. But apparently they’re still trying to crack some of them,” Moz remarked and mentally chuckled, knowing full well that Sally had cracked them effortlessly.

“Good, so they know who he is, and have tied him to Halbridge,” Neal replied.

Mozzie could hear the relief in his friend’s voice. While he’d been upset that Sara had torn Neal away from the life, he wasn’t so cruel as to want Neal’s heart to be broken — again. Besides, Neal had always been working towards an honest life. The cons had just been a way to distract him. Now he had to distract Neal from his grief, if just for a little while.

“Yes, but we know Halbridge used an alias, and Black won’t talk,” Mozzie pointed out. “The suits won’t arrest him on that. We’re going to have to find out why he wanted Sara dead and hand it to them on a silver platter.” 

“I’ll keep digging. I’m going through what Sara would have had access to first — it had to be something she uncovered, something that made him nervous enough to get her out of the way.”

“Something no other investigator would know or would come across,” Moz added.

“Exactly. Someone else will pick this up in her place, and he had to know that.”

The agents broke up and went their separate ways, and Mozzie moved back out of sight once more. “Repo is good, I’ll give her that,” he conceded. “I wonder how much she told the suits.”

“Well, unfortunately we can’t get her files, either. I’m fairly certain the FBI would have taken them.”

“It is a shame, but we have our own resources. I’ll find out if there’s word of him on the street. Maybe he’s trying to move the bonds.”

“Stay on them, Moz. We need to know what they’re doing.”

“I don’t exactly have a Time-Turner, Neal!” Mozzie exclaimed, frustration creeping into his voice.  
“I can’t be in two places at once.”

There was only silence, then Neal simply replied, “Moz, please.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll figure something out,” he grumbled and hung up. Glancing back at scene and the FBI agents who were all getting into their respective cars, he shuddered.

*~*~*~*

“Hey Moz, I was re-reading the emails. Mr. Black was picked up — which means—”

“There’s someone else involved,” Moz finished. He tugged on his cap and kept his head down as he walked down the corridor and moved into a small alcove. “I’ll look into who drove him. No gun was found on Mr. Black, so either he’s ditched it or the driver probably has it.”

“I know it’s a long shot…”

Moz sighed, and shook his head. “Neal, don’t worry about it.”

“What about the FBI? Anything there?”

He turned toward the wall as two nurses walked by, chatting. “I got people on it, but it’s still early. They’re hunkered down and probably going through files just like we are. I know you want answers, mon frère, but it’s not going to be fast.”

“I get that, Moz, I just…”

“Neal, it’s okay. I understand. We will get him. You have my word. Even if the FBI doesn’t get him, he’ll never see the light of day.”

“I don’t want him dead, Moz.”

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’d rather see him rot in jail for the rest of his life.”

“You’re a better person than I am. Now look, I’d love to chat, but I’m currently standing in ground zero, and I rather not catch dengue fever.”

“Wait… what? Moz, are you at the hospital?”

Mozzie peeked over his shoulder. Two cops were sitting at the end of the hall, leafing through old copies of _People_ magazine.

“Never let it be said that I don’t do anything for you.”

“Is Black talking?”

“He’s in recovery at the moment, but I imagine the Suits will be here to interrogate him when he comes out.”

“Moz, we both know Black won’t talk.”

He smiled and started walking towards the elevator. “Which is why I plan on talking to him.”

*~*~*~*

Neal didn’t bother to look up when he heard the front door open later that evening. His eyes skimmed the end of the document in his hand and then dropped it in a pile to his right.

Mozzie sat down in the chair next to him, without stopping for wine, which Neal realized a second later and he straightened, looking at his friend anxiously.

“Did you talk to Black?”

Taking his glasses off, Moz ran a handkerchief over them slowly. “He was rather out of it. One of the Suits showed up, but I don’t think he got anywhere, either. I overheard him on his phone, he’ll be back in the morning. I’ll try again tomorrow.” 

Neal slumped back in his chair. “Thanks for doing this, Moz. It means a lot, really.”

“Friends are the siblings God never gave us,” he replied calmly, and put his glasses back on. “But that’s not what I came to talk about.”

“Oh?”

“My sources tell me that Halbridge’s _driver_ ,” Mozzie air-quoted, “or henchman is more like it, recently made inquiries about acquiring a gun.”

Neal’s head jerked up and he leaned forward. “Was it—”

“22 caliber, the same as what…” Moz trailed off when Neal winced, and cleared his throat. “Now that we’re sure it’s him, we need to figure out what Halbridge is hiding. Have you found anything?”

“Not much. He keeps his nose clean.”

Mozzie shook his head. “Not possible. Everyone hides something. We’re proof of that.”

“Well, he sure keeps up appearances. I’ve gone through everything Sally dug up on him. The only stuff she probably _didn’t_ get is his trash, and yes, Sara goes through that.”

Nodding, Moz tipped his head. “Impressive, and dedicated to her craft. I commend her.”

Neal smiled sadly.

“However, I doubt his deepest, darkest secrets were hidden in his trash. There has to be something Sara found that spooked him. Something she would have investigated, and he heard she was looking into it.”

Neal stared at the piles covering the table, and tried to rack his brain. It would take hours to properly go through the guy’s financials, but at first glance everything had looked legit. Halbridge didn’t even own any shady properties that would have raised a flag.

_Although…_

Neal picked through one pile and pulled out a list of property values. “There was one odd thing with his land holdings.”

“Odd, how so?”

“He’s renovated all of them, except for one. Ridgemont,” Neal replied, pushing the file across the table.

Moz picked it up and his eyes skittered back and forth, quickly reading through it in a matter of seconds. “It’s not worth much as is, beyond the land itself, and it’s old. Same age as some of the others. There has to be a reason.”

Neal shrugged. “It’s the first place he lived when he moved to the city.”

“Nostalgia?” Moz grimaced. _“True nostalgia is an ephemeral composition of disjointed memories.”_ He pushed the paper back with a knowing smile. “Nostalgia is the downfall of every great con, and I think that’s going to be the case with Halbridge. There’s something there that he doesn’t want to let go of, something he left behind. Literally.”

“Why? He’s had years to retrieve whatever _it_ is.”

_“Exactly!”_ Moz exclaimed and pointed a finger at him. “We both know the best places to hide something, and you’re going to be fairly limited in an apartment. Sure, there’s the air vent, but that’s not too original and can be easily discovered.”

“So where then? And more importantly, _what?_ What’s worth—” he stopped.

“Killing over?” Moz sighed. “Now that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? It’s not the bonds, that’s for sure. I don’t think he’s moved them, and unlike the trash Repo digs through, the stuff people _actually_ want to hide, in my experience, is somewhere no one else will ever look.”

“Most people also don’t have a safe-house for every day of the week, either.”

Moz paused deliberately, then cleared his throat and held his head up high. “Yes, but I’m also not the one under FBI investigation, nor am I even on their radar. Ergo, I must be doing something right.”

Chuckling, Neal smiled and decided to drop it. There was no point in arguing further. Mozzie would never change. “Fine. So, did you hear anything about Halbridge on the streets? What do people know about him? The bonds couldn’t have been his first venture into the criminal world.”

Moz shook his head. “It’s not. He might appear legitimate on paper, but he’s been known to visit a few middlemen about certain art pieces, that I’m pretty sure he knew _weren’t_ legitimate.”

Neal frowned, and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay, but he’s not going to leave that behind at an old apartment.”

“Stolen art is a little dicey, but I don’t think that’s what made him nervous. We have to think about what he was doing twenty years ago when he lived at Ridgemont.”

“Right, how did he make his money?”

Moz’s eyes lit up. “That’s it!”

Neal blinked.

Reaching for a file folder, Moz excitedly started hunting through the stack of papers within. A moment later he held up one triumphantly. “Yes! In 1986, Edward Halbridge, age twenty-one, received a sizable inheritance from his late parents.”

“How does that help us? Unless he was just a punk kid acting out, who maybe wanted some quick cash before he turned twenty-one, that just goes to show that his money is legit.”

“Neal, think about it. What do most people kill over? _Money._ At the heart of this, Halbridge is one greedy guy.”

Neal felt a headache coming on and rubbed his forehead. “And he got it — the legal way.”

“Or so it seems!” Moz waved the paper in the air. “How do we know he was supposed to get all of that money? Did he have any siblings? Or _had_ siblings, I should say.”

“Moz, you can’t be serious. You think he’d kill his siblings just to get a bigger inheritance?”

“What’s the other reason to kill someone?” Moz retorted, flailing his arms around. “To cover up _another_ murder.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking smug.

Neal closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was like falling down a rabbit hole when you got Mozzie going.

“Look, I’ll prove it.” Moz thumbed through the folder again, and finally pulled a piece of paper. Seconds later his shoulders slumped. “No siblings. Curses. There has to be something we’re missing. I wonder how his parents died.”

Shaking his head, Neal pushed his chair back and stood up. He’d like a stiff drink the way this conversation was going, but that was out of the question. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to work the kinks out of his neck and contemplated just going to bed. Maybe when he woke up, Moz would have a non-conspiracy-laden theory. But knowing his friend, that was unlikely.

Either way, he _was_ tired. He was exhausted from the research and from the emotional rollercoaster of the last couple of days.

“I’m going to bed. I’m running on fumes.”

Mozzie nodded knowingly. _“Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine.”_

Neal scoffed lightly. “I think it’s going to take a lot more than that, but I’ll take all the sleep I can get. Good night. And thanks, Moz.”

*~*~*~*

_“One glass of ice water,” Neal announced as he walked into the bedroom._

_Sara glanced up and smiled. “Thanks.”_

_His eyes followed her as she leaned over, hands slowly massaging lotion down her leg. After she finished, she straightened and placed the bottle of lotion on the nightstand. Walking the few steps towards him, she gladly accepted the glass from him, took a long drink and sighed._

_“I say we fast-forward a few months. What do you think?”_

_“You find the time machine, and I’ll be there in a heartbeat,” he replied glibly, took the glass from her, and put it on nightstand._

_Tugging her in his arms, he ran his hand under her thin silk negligee, and down her back. Sara shrieked at the touch of his cold, wet hand, and he laughed._

_She tried to back away from him, but he just pulled her back with his other hand and trailed his cold one up and down her back. Squealing, she bent over at the waist, and they tumbled down on the bed laughing. He continued to touch her in just the right places, the tickles eliciting giggles from her, and finally after a couple minutes they both fell back, gasping._

_“I hate you,” she managed to get out, her chest heaving, as she tried to catch her breath._

_“Not possible.”_

_She turned her head and raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Someone’s sure of himself.”_

_“Well, I seem to recall someone was very happy this evening.” He propped himself on his side, smiling proudly. Despite her initial resistance, she hadn’t wanted to leave the pool earlier, and only a promise of a return trip got her out. That and the ice cream currently sitting in his freezer._

_“You may have your moments.”_

_“Mmm-hmm…” He ran his hand down her arm, and she shivered but didn’t complain this time. “I should take you to the French Riviera. Beautiful sandy beaches, crystal blue water…”_

_“...and skimpy bikinis?” She raised an eyebrow and smiled._

_He chuckled, and sneaked his hand underneath her negligee again, lightly running his fingers over her stomach. “Maybe…”_

_She stilled and her breathing evened out. “I understand if you want to go somewhere, but if it’s just for me… “_

_He looked up to meet her gaze and Sara smiled softly. She reached over and laid a hand over his. “I’m perfectly content to stay in New York. It is, after all, New York — hard to run out of things to do.”_

_“You deserve it,” he argued._

_“I know I do,” she quipped with a sly grin and wink. He laughed. “But I don’t want you to feel like you always have to do something special. You wouldn’t believe how much I appreciate having a quiet weekend.”_

_“Says the person who brings case files with her every time,” he drawled and poked her arm._

_She swatted him and grinned. “Don’t try to deny you have fun going through them, too. I know for a fact that you’re going to love my current case.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“One hundred million in Japanese bearer bonds.”_

_His eyes lit up. “Samurai bonds? That’s brilliant. Whoever holds them, owns them.”_

_She shook her head and laughed. “See? But don’t get any ideas about telling Mozzie. Knowing him, he’ll try to go after them himself.”_

_“Unfortunately, yes. By the way, never bring up my bonds with him. He’s still upset that we didn’t get to cash in more.”_

_“Oh, such a shame, you didn’t commit more felonies,” she replied, deadpan._

_He chuckled. “Hey, I was young. Give me a break.”_

_Her eyes widened and she sat up. Staring back down at him, she shook her head, exasperation clear on her face. “Neal, you stole a multi-million-dollar painting a year ago!”_

_“I’m reformed, remember?” He smiled brightly._

_She rolled her eyes and moved to get up, throwing her legs off the bed. He grabbed her arm before she stood up. “Sara…”_

_Tugging her arm away, she stood up, and in a petulant voice, said, “You promised ice cream.”_

_He fell back and laughed, admiring her as she walked out of the room. Pushing himself up, he sat back against the headboard and waited. She returned with the small tub of Ben and Jerry’s and held out a spoon to him._

_“You know, I’m not opposed to the Riviera,” she spoke up a moment later, after licking her spoon. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing some of Italy, maybe where you traveled during school.”_

_“Sure, I’d love to show you the area. We can visit Siena, San Gimignano, and of course, Florence. Cinque Terre isn’t that far, either. The whole coastline is breathtaking.” He smiled, realizing how much fun it would be to show her around, and introduce her to the people he had met there._

_“Unfortunately,” she pointed her spoon at him, “it will not be warm enough for a bikini. I hope you can deal with that.”_

_His next break would end in early April, but at least it would be cool and not overrun with tourists if they went in late March. He playfully pouted, then sighed loudly. “If I must…”_

_Sara’s spoon scraped the bottom of the container and she scooped up the last of the melting chocolate and held it out to him. “Now, who says we need to go to the Riviera?”_

_He grinned and leaned over, taking the last bite._

_Sara quickly dumped the spoons in the ice cream carton and placed it on the nightstand, then turned back to him. He jumped when she placed her cold hand on his chest, and she laughed softly, sidling up next to him once more._

_“With the right persuasion, I might wear one here this summer …” she trailed off, running her foot up and down his leg, flirtatiously._

_His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he felt a rush at the possibilities. “Speaking of which… you’re awfully overdressed.”_

_Sara smirked and sat up, flirting with the edge of her nightgown. “Is today ‘clothing optional’?”_

_“Why not?”_

_Her laughter filled the air as he pulled her back down on the bed, grinning like a fool._


	3. Chapter 3

Neal found Mozzie sacked out on his couch, snoring, in the morning. The kitchen table was neatly organized back into the stacks of folders and papers, courtesy of Moz’s OCD. While that was unsurprising, it was unusual that Moz had not returned home. He would normally rant ten minutes straight about how he could not sleep anywhere that wasn’t to his high standards.

That only meant he’d probably stayed up all night and accepted that he could not drive home safely.

Or he’d found Halbridge’s secret.

Yawning, Neal walked into the kitchen and went to start the coffee maker. He was only allowed one cup a day, and he was going to need it to contend with whatever crazy theory Moz had come up with.

As much as he appreciated his friend’s help, he was starting to wonder if they just needed to wait for the FBI to do their job. They knew about Halbridge, so it was only time until they arrested him, and that’s all he wanted right now. The why wasn’t so important anymore.

Sara’s death was finally starting to sink in, and nothing was going to bring her back or make it any easier. Finding justice, not revenge, as he’d told Mozzie the day before, was the only thing that would give him some closure.

That and seeing her one last time.

By the time the coffee had finished brewing, he’d made a plan on how to tell Mozzie. It wasn’t going to go over well, but right now he didn’t care. He had to say goodbye to Sara and if he waited too long, he wouldn’t get the chance.

“Let me see your warrant!” Moz exclaimed, jerking awake.

Neal raised an eyebrow and chuckled as Moz sat up looking bleary-eyed. 

“Stay up late, did we?”

Mozzie pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Sally and I dug into the death of Halbridge’s parents, amongst other things.”

Unable to quash his curiosity, he had to ask. “What did you find?”

“Their private plane crashed due to mechanical problems in 1983. They died on impact.” Mozzie cleaned his glasses, then stood up and stretched. “Halbridge was eighteen at the time.”

“You’re seriously not suggesting he sabotaged his parents’ plane, are you?” Neal stared at him in disbelief. “I mean, why would he? He got his inheritance.” 

Walking to the kitchen, Mozzie went to pour his own cup of coffee. “Unfortunately, no, I am not. Sally came to the same conclusion last night, especially after she found their will. It stipulated that he not get anything until he turned twenty-one, beyond a basic allowance and college tuition.”

“Nice parents, or maybe they just knew their son well,” Neal replied wryly.

Mozzie nodded knowingly. _“We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid.”_ He moved to the fridge, stuck his head in and dug around, then popped back out. “Where’s my soy milk?”

“I threw it out, Moz. It was past its date and starting to smell.”

“What?” Moz sputtered. “Why would you do that? Neal, that was perfectly good soy milk.” He closed the fridge and stalked over to the pantry, muttering under his breath.

Neal just rolled his eyes and sat down at the table with his coffee.

Wine bottle in hand, Moz went about pouring himself a glass. Neal chose not to say anything. He’d learned that early on, especially when it concerned Moz’s wine habit. It was five o’clock somewhere, he would say.

“That couldn’t have taken you all night,” Neal finally spoke up after Moz sat down across from him.

Moz shook his head. “No, Sally and I went back to square one — Ridgemont. That still seemed the most likely culprit. It’s old and obscure enough that if Sara came digging around, then he must have thought no one else would look into it after she died.”

Neal nodded, tamping down the pain that came with bringing up her name, and tried to think logically. “Right. So where _could_ he have hidden something? We’ve ruled out the actual apartment — he could have gone back by now or someone else would have discovered it. That leaves common areas, which are risky, or the grounds.”

Moz opened his laptop and clicked a few keys before turning it around to face Neal. “Here’s a satellite image of the building now, and a picture from 1980.”

Neal leaned in and glanced between the two photos. He had to extrapolate what he was looking at, considering one was aerial. But a difference quickly became obvious.

“There’s grass, a small yard maybe, here,” Neal pointed at the image from 1980. “Now it’s all concrete." His eyes widened. “You think he buried something.”

“Precisely.” Moz turned the laptop back around. “Then he bought the building once he could, and cemented over it.”

He slumped back in his chair, stunned. They’d found it. Whatever _it_ was. On the one hand, it didn’t matter because knowing the ‘why’ wouldn’t change anything, and he’d convinced himself last night that he was better off not knowing. But making sense of Sara’s death was too tempting to pass up. Besides, getting Mozzie to drop it would be near impossible now.

“We still don’t know what it is, and you can’t exactly go dig it up,” Neal pointed out.

“True, but there are other ways…” Moz replied mysteriously. He paused for a beat, then held up a finger. “What is it that most people bury?”

Neal blinked. “Are you kidding? You think he has a body buried there? Who? We’ve already ruled out the parents. He had no siblings. This can’t be about the inheritance.”

Moz held up his wine glass and stared at it intently, swirling the dark red liquid slowly. “I found it awfully convenient that he had no relatives.”

Neal mentally groaned. Mozzie was drawing it out. He was always one for the theatrics. “Not everything is a conspiracy, Moz.”

With a small nod of acknowledgement, Moz smiled quietly. His repose didn’t last long, and his eyes lit up, the excitement evident. “Maybe not, but in this case? I thought there was something fishy about how he just lucked into all that money.”

“It’s an inheritance, Moz,” Neal replied, impatience coloring his voice, but he didn’t care. “It’s not some mysterious deposit he received one day, and I’m sure if you dug into his financials, you’d see that. Maybe later he got into something illegal. You’re right about one thing — he’s greedy and he probably wanted more after he got a taste of it. So if you want to figure out what he was up to _after_ he received the inheritance, I’m all for that.”

With a long suffering sigh, Moz shook his head. “Neal, you’re missing it. The inheritance _is_ the key. That’s a lot of money, just for the taking.”

“So, what are you saying? Someone went after his money, and Halbridge killed them?”

Moz put down his glass, and leaned forward, a gleam in his eyes. “Close. He was in college at that time, so Sally started looking into missing persons reports at your illustrious alma mater, NYU. She couldn’t find any, at least not anyone that looked suspicious. Then we got to thinking, who _would_ go missing, but no one would report as missing?”

Neal’s jaw dropped as it suddenly all made sense. “Someone with no family.”

Mozzie grinned and sat back with a self-satisfied look.

“If Halbridge is dead and buried at Ridgemont, then who’s the impostor?”

“Ah, so that is what took us all night to figure out,” Moz said, with a tilt of his head. “Seeing as Ridgemont was where it all began, we started with its residents. Obviously, people come and go, but combing through lease agreements, we were able to narrow down the possibilities to men around his age who _did_ leave at one point. We figured we’d expand out if we didn’t find anything. After all, he wouldn’t want to make a scene, so he could have paid for the apartment for a while.”

Neal shook his head. “Do I want to know how Sally got her hands on leases from the 80’s?”

Mozzie scoffed and waved a hand in the air. “Oh, Halbridge’s management company is a joke. It was child’s play for Sally to get in, and they had scanned documents from the 60’s. Really, the advent of the scanner was a godsend for hackers.”

He chuckled and sipped his coffee. Finding Sally had been the best thing to happen to Moz. The two of them were a match made in geek heaven. However, Neal didn’t want to think about what happened beyond the computer between those two. It was a little scary to think about.

“Now, what _is_ interesting to note, is that the lease agreements had a last print date of two weeks ago.”

Neal’s eyes widened. “You mean…”

Mozzie nodded. “That was probably Sara. I have to give her credit; I don’t know how she convinced them to give to her.”

“And that’s when Halbridge, or whoever he is, found out she was digging into him.” Neal exhaled slowly, and ran a hand over his face. It all sounded so crazy, but it was starting to make sense. He glanced back at Moz. “So, did you find him?”

“We did — Steve Price. He left early ‘86, and we compared his signature to the current Edward Halbridge. They had striking similarities that I’m sure a forensic expert would agree is a match.”

Neal smiled tightly. They had a name now. But they still needed a lot more if they wanted to catch him.

“How do we prove any of this? We can’t just go confront him or even tip off the FBI. It’s all just a theory.”

“Which is why we need a body.”

Neal raised an eyebrow. “I surely hope you mean Halbridge’s body, not just _a_ body.”

Moz waved a hand. “Of course.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to go dig him up in the dark of night.”

Moz’s eyes lit up once more and he rubbed his hands with barely contained glee. “No, but we do need to confirm he’s there.”

Neal sighed. “And, how, dare I ask, are we going to do that?”

“Cadaver dog.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“That way we won’t have to dig. Just go in at night, sniff around, and voila!”

“And we just tell the FBI, _‘hey, we went onto private property with a cadaver dog that we just happened to have, and discovered a dead body’_?”

Moz grimaced, acknowledging him a small nod. “That’s where our efforts reached a road block.”

Neal pinched the bridge of his nose. “How would you even get your hands on such a dog?”

“I know someone,” Moz replied vaguely.

He took a deep breath, and smiled at his friend weakly. “Moz, I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done, but I think we need to take a step back here, and think this through carefully. We’ll only have one shot at this or Halbridge will get spooked and run.” 

“We can’t wait too long, mon frère,” Moz said, standing up. “But I understand. I might as well check in with my sources, and see what the FBI is up to. We need them on the same page as us if this is to work.”

Neal smiled tiredly. “Thanks Moz.”

“I’ll call you if I hear anything.”

With that, Moz left, and Neal was left alone in the silence. He let out a long breath. It was easy to keep working, acting like it was just another heist, keeping his mind off reality, but Sara was dead, and would be even after this was all over.

He pushed his chair back, and shakily got up. Life went on. He didn’t like it, but he would have to deal with it.

*~*~*~*

Neal stepped into the shower and closed his eyes, letting the water sluice over his face. He couldn’t get Sara’s face out of his head. Her smile and her laugh. It just ran on repeat, the look on her face as her head fell back, laughter ringing in his ears.

One week.

It had been just one week ago, which both felt like yesterday and yet a lifetime, when she’d been so carefree and happy, playing with him in the pool. They had acted like kids, unencumbered by the realities of life outside the walls of that one building. Lying with her in bed that night, the soft hum of the fan, and gentle whisper of air blowing on their skin, had been the most peaceful in his memory.

In that one moment, he’d realized that he could see the rest of his life with Sara by his side. He wasn’t ready for marriage just yet, and he doubted she was, either. It was still yet to be seen if she could handle this life long-term anyway. Heck, there had been some days even he wasn’t sure he could handle it much more, wondering if he should take Mozzie up on his offer to run.

Sara had changed all that. It was as if she brought an evenness, a calm, that allowed him to get up every morning and look forward to the next. Their weekends together might not always be exciting, but he’d treasured them.

None of that mattered anymore.

His heart hammered in his chest, and it felt like it was going to explode. Breathing heavily, his hand flew to the wall, and he slumped over, hanging his head as the water continued to batter his back. 

Gulping, his lungs screamed and his head pounded. The tears came, like a dam had been unleashed, flowing down his cheeks.

‘How? _How?_ ’ he wanted to wail.

He couldn’t do this without her. He loved her. He _needed_ her.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t _fair_. He shook his head and stumbled, falling down on the shower bench and stared blindly into the cascading water. 

He was lost without her.

*~*~*~*

Mozzie tugged the blue vest around the dog’s middle, then scratched behind the dog’s ears and gave him a pat on the head. “Okay, Duke, let’s go find ourselves a body.”

The German Shepherd barked.

Standing up straight, Moz slid on the sunglasses and held onto the harness with a tight grip. “Onwards!”

The dog looked up at him, confused, and wagged his tail. Mozzie sighed. He waved his left hand. “Walk! Go!”

That seemed to do the trick, and Duke started trotting down the sidewalk. Pausing at the corner of the street, they turned at Mozzie’s nudge, pulling the harness to the right. He made sure to keep his head up and stare straight ahead, and not react to his surroundings. Still, he carefully observed the people and cars on the street behind his dark sunglasses. Only a few other dog walkers, and the occasional teen on a skateboard. It was quiet. That was good.

But then he cursed when he spotted the nondescript utility van parked a couple buildings down from Ridgemont.

Lenny hadn’t mentioned that to him when he’d been updated on the Feds’ activities this morning. It was just one more reason why he preferred to work alone. 

No matter, it couldn’t be helped. The job had to be done. However, it would make the rest of his plan, albeit sketchy at the moment, easier. The FBI played a critical part — unbeknownst to them, of course — and needed to not only be aware of Halbridge and Ridgemont, but also breathing down Halbridge’s neck.

Steeling himself, he continued walking, and got closer to the apartment building. “Almost there, Duke.”

He felt the hair on his own neck stand up and his heart pounded as he watched the van out of the corner of his eye. Taking several deep, slow breaths, he fought against the instinct to run. This was for Neal. And Sara.

A few feet from the edge of the property, he made a big deal of pulling out his cell phone and trying to hold onto the harness at the same time. They stopped close to the gate, and he dropped the harness.

Holding the phone up to his right ear, and making a point of holding a hand over his left ear to block out noise in order to ‘hear’ better, he knew between his hat, sunglasses, and now his left hand, it would be impossible for the Suits to identify him. Still, he turned slightly to the right to ‘talk.’

Duke looked up him, panting, his tongue lolled to the side. “It’s time. Duke, go find!” The dog’s head snapped up at the command and quickly turned away.

Mozzie sighed as Duke put his nose to the ground, walked through the gate and down the steps into the small side ‘yard’ of the building. He watched carefully as the dog sniffed around. After a moment, Duke started circling one area, then promptly sat down and let out a bark.

He grinned, and squelched the desire to pump his fist. Instead, he made a production of ending his call, then ‘searched’ for the dog and harness in front of him.

“Duke!”

The dog barked once more.

Mozzie took out a white cane from his pocket and unfolded it, sweeping it back and forth, walking slowly to the gate and feeling the wrought iron bars of the fence as he went. “Duke, come here!”

Unfortunately, Duke had been trained to alert and stay at the site of his discovery, and did not want to deviate from procedure.

Sighing, he shook his head. He would have to go after him. But before he could take another step, the sound of hurried footsteps crossing the street and toward him made him freeze.

“I’ll get him!”

Mozzie’s eyes widened and his heart caught in his throat as the Lady Suit breezed by him and jogged down the stairs. She walked slowly up to Duke, speaking calmly in a low voice, then grabbed the handle of the harness. Duke barked and clawed at the ground at his feet. She gave a tug and started walking them back towards the stairs and the street.

“Here you go,” she said, reaching out for his hand. It took every ounce of restraint not to yank his arm back as she placed his hand on the handle.

The pounding of his heart nearly filled his ears. He gripped the handle tightly and scooted away. “‘ank-” he squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him. “It’s no problem. Take care.”

Gulping in air, he stood frozen to his spot and watched with wild eyes as she jogged back down the street to the van. A gust of wind could have blown him over, he was shaking so hard. 

Duke barked and tried to tug him back towards the body. Mozzie’s head snapped back, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. All he had to do was walk down the street and away from the eyes of the FBI. Then he could return to Tuesday and decontaminate himself. Pulling on the harness, he calmly started walking once more, and Duke finally gave up on returning to the yard, and trotted alongside of him.

Neal was _so_ going to owe him a nice Bordeaux for this.

*~*~*~*

“I’ve been contaminated! Do you know how many showers I had to take this afternoon?!! If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, you’ll know why.”

Mozzie breezed by Neal in a whirl of flailing hands and wild eyes as he headed straight to the pantry, and wine rack, ostensibly. It was a good thing he didn’t have any hard liquor on hand, because there was a good chance Mozzie would drink himself into a stupor, or worse, pass out on his floor.

Putting down his brush, Neal stood up from the portrait of Sara he’d started. It’d been hard to concentrate on anything else, especially while he had to wait for any bit of news.

“What happened?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you what happened — the end of my existence as we know it!” Mozzie exclaimed, waving his hand, wine glass and all, in the air erratically. “I’m willing to do a lot for _you_ , for _Sara_ , but this? _This_ , I draw a line at. I’m going to have to leave the country now. New York is burned for me.”

Neal sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Moz…” Unfortunately, his friend was prone to over-exaggeration more than he’d like, so he knew better than to get worried just yet.

“She saw my face, Neal! _My face!_ ” He started pacing. “Do you know how long I’ve gone without crossing their path, and now in less than forty-eight hours, I’ve been close enough to breathe their air not just once, but twice!!"

“Who, the FBI?” Neal crossed the room and sat down at the kitchen table, wishing for his own glass of wine.

Moz sputtered and his arms flailed again. “Yes, the _FBI!_ And today, I went out to Ridgemont, and who else but the FBI is there, _watching!_ ” 

Neal closed his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t go digging.”

“No, Neal, I did not go digging for a body with the Suits watching,” Moz replied with a long-suffering sigh. “However, I went there with a job to do, and I intended to do it. I came appropriately attired. Even if I didn’t foresee encountering the Suits, I made sure no one would recognize me.”

The image of a really bad toupee popped into his head, and Neal cringed. Mozzie had horrible taste in wigs.

“So what happened to bring on the need to leave the country?”

Moz ignored him, and continued his tale, wine glass still wavering in his hand. “Borrowing on Blind Man’s Bluff, I set out with Duke, and let him loose at Ridgemont.”

“You did _what?_ ” Neal stared at him in disbelief. And then wondered how was he even surprised anymore.

Gulping down the last of his wine, Moz set the glass down and gave him a pointed look. “We needed to know if there was a body buried there, right? I told you there were other ways and I meant it.” 

Neal took a deep breath. “You mean to tell me that you really found a cadaver dog and had him sniff for a dead body while the FBI was watching?”

Mozzie let out a huff and crossed his arms. “It wasn’t exactly my intent to do it with _an audience_ , but it had to be done, Neal. At least this way, we know they’re onto Halbridge _and_ Ridgemont. Their surveillance falls nicely into our plans.”

“What plans, Moz?” he exclaimed. “This morning you said you had no plan!”

_“Plans are nothing;_ planning _is everything.”_

Neal narrowed his eyes, feeling his patience quickly fade away. “Moz…”

Mozzie held up his hands placatingly. “Look, it got us the confirmation we needed, and now we can move forward. With the Suits watching Ridgemont now, Halbridge is going to fall right into their laps.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How? You think they’ll just believe an anonymous tip that there’s a body buried there?”

“As if.” Mozzie scoffed. “No, we have to give them a body. And by ‘we,’ I mean someone else — a neutral third party.”

Neal paused. “I’m listening.”

“In the morning, a few residents are going to call in a gas leak.”

“We want them to dig up the body, not blow up the whole apartment.”

Mozzie rolled his eyes. “Oh, like I would do that. They’re just going to smell the lovely eau de stove. Then, when the city workers go to pull the plans, whoops! They’re missing and they’re not going to know where to dig.”

“Missing, eh?

He shrugged, sitting down across from Neal. “The building is from the 30’s, these things get lost. Not uncommon.”

“Right…” Neal eyed him warily. “So just like that, they find the body?”

“Okay… so they might smell gas near the body, too.”

Neal shook his head. “I hope this works. Better yet, I hope it really is Halbridge in there. How long will it take the FBI to determine it’s him?”

“A day or two, if they put a rush on it. This actually works in our favor.”

“I don’t see how. Price will find out that they dug up the body — he’s going to want to run.”

Holding a finger in the air, Mozzie eye’s shone brightly. “Yes, but bureaucracy moves slowly, and he won’t feel the pressure to leave just yet. He doesn’t know the FBI is onto him, so he’s going to assume the NYPD will get the body. They’re certainly not going to make a twenty-year-old body a high priority.”

Neal sighed. Halbridge might not run immediately, but everything else had to fall into place for it to work. Could they risk it?

“Don’t worry, mon frère. Tomorrow’s a Sunday and the banks are closed. If he wants money, he’ll either have to wait or go after the—”

“Bonds!” Neal exclaimed, feeling hopeful again.

With a satisfied smile, Mozzie leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Exactly, and he’s smart, so he won’t have them on his property.”

“In case anyone does come with a search warrant,” Neal filled in. “Is the FBI watching him?”

Mozzie gave him a short nod. “They are.”

“So… if he runs, he’ll lead them straight to the bonds. But we need them to realize _why_ he’s running — that he’s Price and not Halbridge. The timing is critical, Moz. They have to discover that the body _is_ Halbridge.”

Neal paused, thinking it through. They had to catch him before he disappeared. There was no way he was letting Price slip through their fingers after everything. The bonds would be a bonus, but he had to be held accountable for killing Sara.

The problem was how quickly the FBI would put all the pieces together.

“Moz, did Sally dig into Price?”

“Sure, but there wasn’t much there. Price disappeared off the grid when he became Halbridge.”

“Did he have a bank account?”

Mozzie’s eyes lit up. “Oooh, I see where you’re going. Yes, he did. However, it certainly wasn’t enough to be a rainy day fund.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Then let’s make it one. Can Sally move money from Halbridge to Price?”

Mozzie rubbed his hands together with uncontained glee. “Oh, that won’t even make her sweat. She can set up a wire transfer that will deposit on Monday — perfect timing, so when the FBI figures out the body is Halbridge, they’ll realize he’s really Price.”

“So, now we wait.”

“Now, we wait,” Moz echoed.

Neal really hated waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

We’re going to need another shower, _Neal thought afterwards. The ceiling fan’s gentle whirl sent ripples of air over their bodies, and it chilled him briefly, even as a sticky sheen of sweat covered his skin. Sara was nearly draped over him, one arm across his chest, and her face tucked into his side. Their feet were tangled in the sheets, leaving the rest of them bare in the dark of the room._

_Neither of them moved, and in the silence he felt strangely content. He listened to the soft sounds of Sara’s breathing, and found his chest rising and falling in sync with her, slowly winding back down._

_He smiled, and glanced down at her pale figure. Her eyes were closed, and her fiery red hair framed her face, falling in waves and clinging to her moist skin. She was gorgeous... and amazingly his. He threaded his fingers through hers, and held them up in the air, marveling at how well they fit together._

_They shouldn’t work. But they did._

_It was no longer new and exciting — but she didn’t care. This was life, and she was still here._

_A shiver ran down his spine, and he just stared at her, a feeling of peace washing over him. The years stretched out endlessly ahead of them, but for the first time, that seemed like a good thing. They talked of trips to France and Italy, yet she was content right here._

_Neal wanted to pinch himself, worried that it was too good to be true._

_“I can hear you thinking. Should I be worried?” she asked in a tired voice._

_He grinned. Sara knew him too well. He brought her hand up to his lips, kissing her softly. “Are you happy?”_

_There was hardly a pause and she answered simply, “Yes.”_

_“You’re not bored?”_

_“With you?” She chuckled and shook her head against his chest. “Never.”_

*~*~*~*

Neal felt a drop of sweat trickle down the back of his neck, but he didn’t care. For the past few days, he’d barely been able to move, lacking any energy or motivation to do anything. Grief was all-encompassing, a downward spiral that felt impossible to escape. If it hadn’t been for the research and work he’d thrown himself into in finding Price, and Mozzie’s constant presence, Neal knew he probably would have lost himself completely.

Now, the end was near, and he wondered whether he had anything to look forward to anymore. It felt like the first day all over again, seeing only a bleak future, years of a sequestered existence with an end that seemed impossibly far away. Without Sara, he felt he had no purpose, no chance of finding that elusive state of happiness that she had brought to his life. His vow to keep anyone from this life had been about more than just not dragging someone through this life, but the reality of finding anyone who could accept it.

Sara had been one in a million.

He stared out at the small lake with its calm water, where a couple of ducks swimming around were the only disruption. The walking trail around it was empty. No one else was out, the sun bright and the heat unbearable. But he had needed to get out of the apartment. Yesterday, painting Sara’s portrait had been a salve, today it hurt too much to gaze into her eyes.

A quiet trill broke the silence and he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Mozzie — finally. He’d been waiting for his call all day.

“It couldn’t have gone better if I had done it myself!” Mozzie crowed, the excitement evident in his voice.

“Moz, you all but pointed a neon sign at the body,” Neal pointed out.

He heard a huff. “Sure, but it took quite an effort for them to _believe_ it was accidental.”

Neal sighed and ran a hand over his face. Even with all their progress, each day was getting longer and he felt strung out. All he wanted was for this to be over. Even if it meant going back to the long boring days of the same routine over and over.

“I take it that the FBI now has Halbridge’s body?”

“Oh, they were quite interested when the gas workers hit the box. It was almost too easy, to be honest. Like kids and an ice cream truck. You know ice cream trucks are a covert government operation for the purpose of studying mind-control and taking control of America's youth, right?”

“Yes, Moz, I know. You told me before.” He rolled his eyes. “So everything’s on schedule? Did Sally move the money?”

“It’ll be deposited in the morning. But even better, she kept digging, pardon the pun, and found that Price has a safety deposit box at the same bank.”

Neal sat up. “Moz, that’s it. That’s where he’s hiding the bonds.”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? He’ll have to prove he’s Price to retrieve the bonds, and that’s going to be his downfall.”

“I have to be there.”

“What?”

“They’re watching him, right? Once he has the bonds, they’ll arrest him. I have to be there,” he repeated.

He needed to see it through, to see that Price paid for his actions. To be there when the FBI arrested him, to see with his own eyes was paramount. Because he knew there was no way he’d be able to testify or even sit in the courtroom when they read his judgement. This would be his only satisfaction.

“Neal, you can’t be anywhere near there. Trust me, I’m close enough, and that’s already too close for my liking. I’ll record it if you want, but you cannot be there.”

He groaned and clenched his hand into a tight fist. “Moz! I have to see it with my own eyes. For Sara.”

Moz’s voice softened. “Look, I understand, but Sara wouldn’t want you there, either. You could get caught. And I don’t just mean the FBI. You’d stand out, if you catch my drift.”

“Fine, but I need to see her,” he argued back. With the discovery of the Halbridge-Price connection, his plan to say goodbye to Sara had fallen to the backburner. He didn’t have much time left.

“Excuse me?”

“Before they bury her, I want to see her one last time.”

“Did you not just hear what I said?” Mozzie’s voice pitched higher. “Neal, you’re seven months pregnant. Even if you _could_ get in the morgue to see her with whatever crazy scheme you have in mind, someone’s going to notice you, and it’s not going to be for that pretty face of yours.”

“I can’t go to her _funeral_ , Moz. Even if it weren’t for the FBI, I couldn’t go anyway since we’re not married. Don’t you deny me the chance to say goodbye, too,” he pleaded, his voice breaking as the reality of never seeing her again suddenly hit him.

Moz sighed. “Fine. I’ll have Sally locate her and see what she can do about the cameras.”

“Thank you.”

Neal ended the call and dropped the phone on the bench next to him. Two ducks swam in front of him and he swallowed back the tears.

*~*~*~*

Mozzie understood Neal’s desire to watch Price’s arrest. It was quite satisfying to watch the surprise on his face after the bank employee confirmed his identity to the Suits and they slapped the cuffs on him.

He sipped his kale smoothie, and unable to contain his grin, watched as the Lady Suit roughly handled him and pushed him in the back of a car. Swinging his binoculars back, he tried to lip-read the Suit’s conversation with the other Junior Suit. There wasn’t much more to see, but it would be good to know that they had connected all the dots that he and Sally had painstakingly left for them to find.

A moment later though, he nearly dropped his binoculars and gaped at the scene before him in shock.

_Oh, sweet cheese and crackers._

He knew never to trust the Suits, but this went beyond even his imagination.

Sara was alive.

*~*~*~*

His heart thudded, pounding wildly in his chest as the adrenaline in his body spiked. It was a familiar feeling, all his senses on alert, but right now he wasn’t concerned about getting caught. Ever since Mozzie had burst into his apartment a few short hours ago, he’d been in a state of shock, anger and euphoria. Right now all that mattered to him was seeing Sara, alive and breathing.

He deftly moved through the hospital corridors, carefully shielding his face from the cameras and trying not to attract any undue attention. Rarely did Neal take advantage of Sally’s hack that spoofed his GPS chip and allowed him to sneak off campus, feeling a little too conspicuous, especially in his later months, but today he couldn’t care less. Mozzie’s worry was warranted, of course; however, even he had understood that he couldn’t dissuade Neal from going.

A white doctor’s coat flapped around him, buttoned up to cover his pregnant stomach, and he wore a salt and pepper wig, hoping to give himself the appearance of an older man with a beer belly.

Neal had argued with Moz that since most people were not accustomed to seeing pregnant people, then they wouldn’t see him as such. It was much more likely that they would assume he was overweight. However, he had given in to Mozzie’s insistence of a wig, knowing full well that he couldn’t pull off the look of an older, overweight man with his features.

The one thing he did not have to worry about, though, was that of sneaking past or distracting the FBI agent who had been stationed outside her room. Earlier in the day, Mozzie had followed Peter Burke to the hospital and witnessed him dismiss the agent. With Price, his driver and Mr. Black in custody, the threat was over.

However, Moz had managed to look at her chart and Sara was not going home just yet. She’d been shot twice, in her chest and abdomen, and while her heart was fine, she was not going to bounce back in a few days.

His anger over the whole situation had only intensified hearing that, though later drowned out by guilt.

He should have been there for her.

Neal turned one last corridor and walked past a nurse’s station, slowly counting off the rooms until he found Sara’s. With one last quick glance around, he took a deep breath and quietly entered the room.

The lights were turned down low, and the mounted TV on the wall was muted, an old eighties TV show flashing on the screen. Sara was curled up in bed, facing away from the door.

“Sara?” he whispered softly.

She didn’t respond. He walked quietly across the room and around the bed. She was asleep, an open crossword book splayed on the bed before her. The medical equipment silently flashed a steady beat, and he was relieved to see very little actually hooked up to her.

He found himself holding his breath as she breathed in and out, still needing to convince himself that she was alive. He felt shaken to his core, realizing he had almost lost her. Except he _had_ lost her, and the grief had been real.

With a shaky hand, he reached out and gently brushed a hand over her shoulder. She stirred, slowly opening her eyes. They widened when she caught sight of him, and she rubbed her eyes quickly.

_“Neal?”_

He smiled, and drifted his fingertips over her cheek. “Hey there.”

She pushed herself up. “How?”

Neal pulled a chair up close to the bed and sat down. He reached over and picked up her hand, weaving their fingers together. After days of thinking he’d never see her again, he needed this contact desperately. He couldn’t stay long and tomorrow he’d wake up and wonder if it had all been a dream.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. I thought you were...” his voice shook, and he couldn’t say it out loud. “Mozzie only found out today and I came as quick as I could.”

Her face crumpled and she squeezed his hand. “I didn’t know if you would hear. I wanted to contact you, but Peter…”

His mouth pulled into a thin line. He couldn’t exactly socialize with the FBI. Even if he wasn’t confined to a breeding colony.

Neal wouldn’t mind meeting Peter Burke; he imagined he would like the man. But that day was far away, if ever. He was lucky Burke hadn’t caught him already. The only thing that had probably saved him was that he spent most of his time in the colony. Mozzie had always complained that his cockiness would get him caught.

“Are you okay?”

Sara grimaced, wrapping arm around her middle. “I’ve been better. Let’s just say I won’t be wearing a bikini any time soon.”

He brought his other hand up to cup her cheek. “You’re amazing.”

“I guess it’s good that I sleep with a gun under my pillow,” she joked lightly.

He choked out a laugh and shook his head. He wished she didn’t have to, but they both knew she loved her job too much, and he would never ask her to stop.

But the image of her lying in her own blood, having to rely on that split-second reaction to save her own life was forever burned in his brain. He didn’t want to go through that again, to worry that the next time she wouldn’t be so fast or so lucky.

The worst part was that he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to — not that it truly stopped him, but what kind of life was that? What if she got sick? How was that fair to either of them?

Sara seemed to read his thoughts. “Don’t go there, Neal.”

He wiped a hand over his eyes and gave her a watery smile. “Sorry, already gone.”

She sighed. “Neal, I’ve had plenty of time to think this past week, and aside from being ticked off and wanting to go after Halbridge myself —” he chuckled, and she smiled, “—I realized most of all that I missed you. Sure, I was upset that you weren’t here, but I wasn’t upset with _you_. None of this was your choosing.

“Listen, I know this isn’t the perfect situation. But it’s worth it. _You’re_ worth it.”

Neal’s head dropped, and he cradled her hand in both of his, gently running his thumbs over the soft skin of her palm. His eyes blurred and he tried to blink the tears away.

He looked back up and smiled sadly. “You still deserve better. You deserve a boyfriend who isn’t wanted by the FBI, and you can introduce to your friends. Someone who will be there for you, even if it’s just to hold your hair back when you’re sick or wait on you hand and foot because you sprained your ankle wearing those ridiculously high heels, or who—” his voice broke as he tried to push that horrific picture out of his head once more, “—who can visit you in the hospital without having to sneak out.”

There was a beat of silence, and he watched as she struggled to contain her own emotions, then a familiar spark lit up her face.

“So, marry me.”

His eyes widened, and he felt his heart stop. “What?”

“Marry me,” she repeated. Her eyes sparkled and there was a new strength in her that hadn’t been there before. “It won’t fix everything, but I’m fairly sure it’ll give us certain rights. And who says I won’t introduce you to my friends? Even Peter. He doesn’t know who you are, and if I have anything to do with it, he never will.”

“You want to marry _me_?” he asked, in awe, staring at her in shock.

“Why not?” She grinned, then shrugged. “I like to think we’re doing well. I’m happy, and I thought you were, too.”

“I am,” he quickly assured her. “I love you — _so much_ — you have no idea.”

“I think I do,” she smiled, and reached out to tug on his wig. “You dressed up just to see me.”

He laughed, and pulled it off. “Mozzie made me.”

“How am I not surprised?” she replied, wryly. She then picked up his hand again and her eyes softened. “I love you, Neal. I know it hasn’t been that long, and I’m not saying we have to get married right away. We’re not ready for that. But where do you see this going?”

He flashed back to that night, and what seemed like a lifetime ago now, remembering the peace he’d felt. “I…” He drew in a shaky breath. “I see my future with you.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Me, too.”

“I don’t want you to regret it,” he replied quietly.

“Neal, no one truly knows where the future’s going to take us, but that’s half the fun.” She sat up and gingerly scooted over on the bed, then patted the space beside her. “Come here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” But he stood up nonetheless and took off the doctor’s coat, draping it on the back of the chair. “You’re not allowed to laugh.”

She grinned. “No promises.”

He rolled his eyes and brought his hip up on the edge of the bed, bracing himself. Pushing off with his toes, and pressing down on the bed, he heaved his unwieldy body up. It took a couple tries, but finally he made it all the way and with a small grunt, he managed to scoot in and lift his legs up.

Sighing, he leaned back and wrapped an arm around her. She curled into his side. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I missed you.”

“I’m still here.”

_For now_ , Neal thought, fear gripping his heart once again. But he forced himself to take a deep breath and push it away.

As if she could read his mind, she laid a hand across his chest. “I know this past week shook you up and it was hard on you. I also know you’re scared that I’ll leave. I understand why, and I don’t blame you — it’s a lot to ask of anyone. However, I’m not running away, and I don’t know what else I can say or do to convince you.”

“It’s just going to take time,” he admitted. Every day she stayed, it amazed him, and the fear lessened just a bit. The painful memory of Kate would eventually fade away.

“I know.” She was quiet for a moment. “Neal, you caught me by surprise last year. I wasn’t thinking about marriage or even a long-term relationship then. But things change. _We_ change.”

He picked up her left hand and ran his thumb over her ring finger. “You really want to do this?”

“I do, I really do.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “I’m as surprised as you are, but it feels right, and I learned a long time ago to trust myself.”

“Trust the gut, eh?” he chuckled.

She shrugged. “It hasn’t let me down before. After all, I found you that way.”

His heart swelled and he softly brushed a strand of hair from her face, staring down at her. “I’m so grateful you did.”

With a sudden clarity he hadn’t felt in a long time, Neal realized that he couldn’t imagine life without her. Last week had shown him that. Sara was right that he couldn’t be afraid of what might happen one day. He was happy. Now he just had to take what was in front of him and never let go.

“Ask me again.”

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that ending was not originally part of the plan, but while writing the sequel to _Once Upon Another Time_ (yes, it's still in the works!), I realized there needed to be a more significant consequence to Sara's near death experience, and what better way to bounce back than with an engagement? :D
> 
> Up next, Peter and crew finally enter my crazy little world. I just can't promise _when_ it will be posted, unfortunately.


End file.
